Intro to Coping
by Loma101
Summary: Britta doesn't know how to cope responsibly with something that recently hurt her. Annie tries to intervene without driving Britta away.
1. Chapter 1

She would spend that night on the street and nobody would find out. She had drunk too much and wouldn't have been able to walk back home if she'd wanted to. So she found a corner that was relatively dark and threw her body behind the bushes that she hoped would hide her until the morning. Her head spun and she could tell she was beyond her usual drunk state because she'd started to talk to herself out loud.

"That's the sign" she said looking up at the roof from the ground.

She'd walked aimlessly on the street for a while, trying to think, and then waiting for the answers to magically appear, and then she realized she was too drunk to find her way back. She had lost the bottle, too, and what made her upset was that it hadn't been empty. If she was going to wait till morning, passed out behind these bushes, she might as well have drunk the rest of it.

* * *

"Ooow" she moaned and turned around "What do you WANT?"

"Britta this is embarrassing!" Annie said.

"Annie?"

"Get up right now. Everybody's looking."

Britta sat up and half-opened her eyes, covering them with her arm. She tried to look around but laid back down.

"Ow, it's so bright!"

"Get up right now, Britta. I can't carry you back and you and I need to get out of here."

"Water!" Britta said sitting up again.

Annie sighed angrily and opened her purse. She took out a bottle of water while dizzy Britta rubbed her eyes. She opened the bottle and threw water on Britta's face.

"What are you doing!?"

"Get up now and start walking."

"What happened?" Asked Britta once they had been able to start walking at a decent pace, still holding on to Annie's shoulder not to fall over.

"What happened? You tell me. I got a call at eight in the morning from someone who recognized your sorry face sleeping behind a bush and figured out who to call to get my number."

"Pshh!" Laughed Britta, "Why didn't they just let me sleep?"

Annie looked at her mesmerized.

"Because, this kind of thing isn't normal, Britta!"

"And who is normal?" Britta said looking away smiling.

"Britta, this is serious! You can't just leave your house, finish off a bottle of Jameson and sleep on the street covered in your own vomit."

"Ew..." Britta looked at her hands and her hair. She looked around, "Where are we?"

"By the school! Couldn't you have chosen a more visible spot to pass out in?"

"Oh crap, I thought I'd walked so far." She said to herself "Where are you taking me?"

"Home."

"No, I don't wanna go home" Britta started. Annie laughed.

"There's no way I'm..."

"Take me to your place." She begged. Once again, Annie laughed.

"I'm not taking..."

"Your place." Britta said and stopped walking.

Annie sighed and said "Whatever".

* * *

Britta showered, changed and complained about how sick she felt. Annie walked around the place not answering. She walked and walked and tried not to look Britta in the face for a long while. She did turn around and run to Britta, though, when she realized Britta was pouring herself a shot of Patrón.

"What are you doing?! It's ten in the morning and you're hungover!" She took the bottle. "You slept. On. The street. All alone. And I'm almost sure you're still drunk." She said looking at Britta and putting the bottle back inside a cupboard.

Britta stared at her with annoyance and moaned, dropping her head on her arms.

Annie turned around, "Would you like some Advil?"

"Yess." Britta said without raising her head.

Annie brought the pill and a glass of water back to the table, put them in front of Britta and watched her take them with a concerned look. "Finish that water," she said, and Britta sighed and looked around, but did what she said.

"Are you okay?" She asked. Britta nodded looking away. Then her head dropped on her arms again and she fell asleep.

* * *

I'm working on what's next. Although I have a few ideas, I'll probably go towards what you guys want to read, so let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

It was past three in the afternoon when she woke up. She jolted up and looked around herself.

"Annie?" She called, "Annie?" Nothing. She got up and walked towards the kitchen to look for the Advil from last night (or this morning, time is relative). She drank three glasses of water. She found leftovers in the fridge and took a few bites.

From the counter, she thought of the quickest route in case she needed to run to the door. Turn left, straight out the door. One had to keep these things in mind.

Then she found the Patrón. She uncapped it and sniffed it. It made her gag.

"Oh my God" she said and pinched her nose. One or two swigs would taste awful but would get rid of her headache and of the bit of anxiety she was feeling.

She took a swig and choked on it, coughing and spitting it on herself and the floor.

"Jesus!" she coughed, and tried again.

* * *

A few hours later Annie walked in. Britta wasn't on the couch anymore. Annie called her name but shrugged when she heard no response. She hummed a pretty tune while taking off her shoes and walking to the counter. On the counter was a half empty bottle of Patrón. Annie gasped and picked it up to see it closer. She looked around her angrily and slammed the bottle down on the counter saying "You have GOT to be kidding me."

She called Britta's number, but wasn't surprised when she got no answer. She left an angry voicemail message and left her house. She couldn't believe she was about to do this and she mumbled her frustration while she walked downstairs.

Her plan had been to walk into the few bars and other forms of shithole that were located on her street, but luckily for her, she'd decided to start with Dildopolis.

Inside, she was approached by a salesman who had glitter on his lashes and a top with kiss prints. He opened his mouth but before he said anything angry Annie snapped at him, holding up her hand to shut him up.

"I'm looking for a friend I lost!"

He glared at her and crossed his arms.

"A drunk blonde came to use our cafe an hour ago."

Annie mumbled "Thank you", and started to the back, but the man continued.

"She was too shitfaced, we sent her away."

Annie puffed, and stopped. She inhaled slowly and turned around as calmly as she could.

"Do you happen to know which way she went?"

The man picked up a hanger with bright red two-piece lingerie and sang.

"She thought our cafe was a bar..."

Annie stomped past him and out of the store.

"You're welcome..." he sang again.

* * *

Britta made her stool spin a bit while she mentally traced her way out of the bar. Down one step, around three tables, out. Two people were sitting on the table in the middle whispering in each other's ears, smiling. Britta rolled her eyes.

"Shithole's the least romantic spot in life" She said to herself. Something that sounded like the Rolling Stones played in the background. The place smelled of beer and sweat, and it was so dark she couldn't see anyone's faces.

The bartender approached her and she looked up, "One more."

"I can't serve you anymore."

"I can pay" she whined.

"You can't sit up straight."

Britta looked at herself. She was half laying down at the bar.

"Nasty" she said and forced herself to sit up. Her stool spun, she gasped and slipped out, feet on the ground, but she needed to hold on tight to the bar not to fall down.

She gaped at him, but he glared back and walked to the register. He came back with her card and slip to sign and said "You can stay here a while if you need to sober up. I'll just serve you water."

Britta gave him a dirty look and shouted "Not getting a tip!"

* * *

Annie walked down the two steps and went straight to the bar, where behind the counter a bartender dried up beer glasses.

"I'm looking for my friend, she's blonde and..."

"She's in the bathroom."

Annie cheered "Oh, thank you!"

The bartender nodded.

Annie walked down the hallway to the bar and the deeper in she walked, the more it smelled of pee. She made it a point not to touch anything. There was one bathroom on the back. Annie resisted touching the handle, but closed her eyes and tried. It was locked. She gently knocked on the door.

"Britta?" She said. No answer, so she knocked again.


	3. Chapter 3

"Britta, it's me, come on. Open this stupid door!" She called. The door clicked.

Annie walked into a bathroom so covered in graffiti by now it was probably considered art. Dark stains covered the sink and the toilet. The trashcan had overflown some time the previous month, Annie thought, and pieces of toilet paper rested against every corner. Britta was seated against the wall with her head on her knees. Annie used one finger to close the door and walked over to Britta. Carefully, she crouched by her. Britta rested still. Annie opened her mouth to speak, but she closed it again and curiously looked at Britta. Her breaths became heavier and faster but she still didn't look up. Annie put a hand on her back "It's ok," she said.

Britta mumbled without lifting her head. "Will you take me home or something?"

"Yeah!" Annie exhaled and looked around them inside the bathroom, "Now!"

Annie stood up and fixed her skirt. She extended a hand to Britta. Britta ran her hands through her hair and looked up. She took Annie's hand and stood up. As she took a deep breath and looked at Annie, her eyes grew wide and she threw up on the floor.

"Oh my!" Annie exclaimed.

* * *

Britta slowly walked to the living room with wet hair and in a bath robe. Annie was patiently sitting on the couch reading a magazine.

"Hey."

"Hi." Annie lifted her head. Britta leaned against a door and stared at the ground. Annie looked around her and both started to say something at the same time. "Jinx!" Annie said.

Britta chuckled and looked at the ground again, "You go first."

"I was just wondering if you're feeling any less miserable," She said with a smile.

"A little bit less miserable," Britta nodded. She then stared long at the ground again. "Thank you."

Still smiling, Annie asked "What happened?"

Britta stared at Annie defensively and shrugged saying, "It appears that I got shitfaced. It's not the end of the world." Annie glared back in silence. Britta stared back for a while but gave up and walked to the couch, "Ugh, your passive aggressiveness is irritating."

"Then just tell me what's happening."

They sat next to each other, Annie looking at Britta and Britta looking at her nails. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin up. With a serious face she looked at Annie.

"This is not a big deal. As an adult I am entitled to acting immature once in a while and not be questioned in return. I appreciate your help this weekend, Annie, I really do. But this is over and you don't have to worry about it, got it?"

Annie stared at Britta for a bit longer. She too had her arms crossed, but was relaxed and sitting back on the couch. Britta saw Annie's eyes look inside hers, searching. Britta stared back fiercely trying to send an intimidating message.  
Annie's lips moved slowly and she spoke softly, still staring defiantly.

"Got it."

* * *

To Britta's secret relief, Annie did not mention the incidents of that past weekend to anyone else. The week went by normally, with the usual amount of nonsense. The news of Britta having fallen asleep on the street did go around, but she quickly declared that it had been part of an overnight watch performed by a group of psychology students, and before she had to make any more shit up, she had bored everyone in the study group into changing the subject.

If she had been a bit more careful, she'd have noticed Annie watching her closely, looking for hints throughout the week that could possibly accuse Britta of having acted stupid as she had the previous weekend. Unusual stupid. Out of the ordinary stupid.

By Friday she came to the conclusion that the weekend had been just accidental and there was really nothing to notice. Or was there? Had Britta been more quiet this week? Was it because she was embarrassed? Not owning up didn't sound like her, but hadn't her behavior been abnormal from the beggining? Was Annie's entire line of thought simply paranoia?

That didn't sound like her, but hadn't she behaved abnormal from the beginning? Or was this entire line of thought plain paranoia?

Oh how Annie wished she could go to Abed for an enlightening fact, or to Jeff, because he was the one who made things happen. Still, there was this small voice at the back of her head that told her if there was something there, it wasn't the kind of thing to go to the group for. The small voice had spoken when Britta lied about falling asleep outside. Daring, rebellious Britta had been ashamed of what she did. Annie knew there was something there.

She wouldn't have to wait long to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

It's late night on Sunday. Annie's apartment is dim and still, she's been asleep for hours. In the beginning she didn't think it was possible, but she is finally used to sleeping through the occasional fights and sirens that took place in the neighborhood outside. Back in the day, every time a fight would happen downstairs, Annie would lay on her back with her hand on her heart and listen until it ended. Now she was jaded and she would close her eyes and sleep til the morning.

For that reason, Annie slept through her phone ringing that night. She faintly heard the ringtone in her dreams, where it was out of place and unwelcome. Slowly she crawled out of a dream and ran her hands through the covers, feeling for the phone in the dark after it stopped ringing. Slowly and still mostly asleep, she brought it close to her and slightly opened her eyes. She had two missed calls from Britta.

It took Annie a second, but she sat up in surprise. Britta had been gone and had not answered any calls ever since she left school on Friday afternoon. Nobody else had heard from her through the entire weekend. Annie's heart pounded as she called back. The phone rang once. It rang twice.

"Annie, thank God. It's me, Britta." Britta exclaimed.

"Britta, what's wrong, are you ok?" Annie's voice was coarse with sleep. She heard Britta take a few deep breaths. Her voice was shaking.

"Annie, I need you to help me."

"Are you drunk?" A few more seconds went by where Britta said nothing, but half panted and half whimpered on the phone. Annie got up and walked around the room, blinded by the light, looking for clothes to wear, "Are you crying?"

"I'm just, I don't know what to do right now." Britta cried.

Annie tried to put clothes on with her one free hand and briefly looked out the window. A faint snow was falling. "Where are you?" She asked turning around and looking for a coat and boots.

"I'm in Wolfe Park, I just want to go home."

"Wolfe Park!? Are you alone?" Annie said getting her keys and walking out her door.

"Yes."

"It's dark outside, I'm going to call Jeff..."

"No Annie, please don't bring anyone with you." Britta contested severely, and Annie didn't know how to argue.

* * *

There were still a couple of hours left until dawn when Annie's car drove around the park and into the parking lot. Snow fell faintly and she could fairly see the park in the light of the lot. It was a small park, with a small field, a playground and a dense mass of trees behind. With her keys strategically held to be used as a weapon on her right hand, and her phone on her left, Annie stepped out of the car. She walked onto the grass and looked around herself, very insecure about being alone in an empty park in the cold, in the dark. She dialed Britta's number and continued walking, only to hear Britta's ringtone somewhere behind her.

Britta was sitting on top of the play structure and waved at Annie, who waved back and put her phone away. Against the snow and the cold, Britta was only wearing a thin jacket. Annie walked toward her with her arms crossed while Britta climbed down and walked towards her. Annie embraced Britta's shaking body and asked, "Are you ok?" Britta simply answered "Yeah" with a voice so shaken that it hardly sounded like a word at all.

* * *

Britta sat in the passenger seat and rubbed her arms and hands. Annie turned on the car and the heat, locked the doors and drove away. "What happened?" she asked. Britta looked around herself and crossed her arms and looked at Annie in silence trying to think of what to say. Her body was shaking and she looked away. "Britta, it's three thirty in the morning, I just drove to a park. We are talking about this."

Britta sat back on the seat. Her clothes and hair were slightly wet and she was still shaking. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"This guy gave me a ride to a bar and we hung out for a while. He had to leave and I guess I thought I could find a ride back home." She said with her eyes still closed and her voice slurring a bit.

"That's it? That's all?" Annie asked and looked at her waiting for her to say more. "Where have you been since Friday?"

"It's none of your business where I've been since Friday." Britta raised her voice for the first time inside the car, but still slurred.

"Britta!" Annie shouted, looking hurt. Britta looked out her window and Annie drove on in an angry silence. They drove for a while until Annie started again, "You haven't been drunk the entire weekend, have you?"

Britta chuckled, "What do you care if I..."

"Because this isn't normal!" Annie shouted again. Britta looked at her surprised. Annie was in the verge of tears, so she looked ahead at the road and away from Britta.

"Look, Annie, I'm sorry, ok? I just don't know what to say." Britta said sternly. Annie gasped.

"You don't know what to say!? How about you just tell me what the hell is going on with you..."

"It doesn't matter what's going on with me!"

"Oh, but it does, Britta! Because at this point you made me worried! I am worried! That's the business I have with this now!" Britta looked at Annie knowing that it wasn't her place to contest or shout back, "I am worried and it's really hard to turn away, Britta, because you are my friend and I care about you!"

Silence. Britta turned away trying to think of something sensible to say, but she knew there wasn't a sensible response. She was also a bit drunk still and she had to consider her words carefully so she wouldn't regret them later. Annie's car drove into the lot behind Britta's building and she turned it off.

"Can you just" she moaned knowing she was wrong in this story and Annie was right and she needed to lower her head right now and stop being rude, "not tell this to anybody? Can we leave this between us? Like best friends?"

Annie looked at Britta and considered her plead. Everything about it: her tone, her eyes, her story. She couldn't tell if Britta was pulling the best friend card to escape the situation or if she really meant it.

Annie said softly, "If I do, will you talk to me about this?"

Britta looked down and speaking softly also said "I... no." And slightly opened the car door.

Angrily, Annie opened her own door and stepped out, not softly anymore, "Don't walk away."

"I'm not" Britta answered and closed the car door starting to walk towards her home. Annie followed her close behind and reached out to try to hold her arm. Britta tried to get away and run inside, but Annie had realized Britta was literally running away and held her arm. "Wait, Britta, wait!"

Britta reached the front door and tried to pull it open, but Annie ran into it and kept it shut, while Britta till tried to force it open. They started trying to pull each other's bodies away from the door.

"Let go of me, Annie! Why do you even care? Jesus, you're strong!"

"Because I do! And I know what addiction is and I know it's not easy to deal with it! And I don't think you can deal with this by yourself!"

"Yes, I can!" Britta said softer, giving up the fight and sitting on the floor still holding on to the doorknob while Annie stepped away, finally.

"You can? Look at where you are, Britta! You can deal with this on your own? Can you? Well, if you can, then tell me now, and I'll walk away. If you can, don't call me anymore and I promise I'll stay out of it!"

From the floor, Britta looked up at Annie and at herself. She sat there for a second, looking, and let go of the door and brought her hands to her hair, rested her head on the door behind her sighing, then bended over and covered her face with her hands. She hid her face and started to cry.

This was so weird for Annie to watch. Britta's body shook on the floor, by the door, most likely still drunk since God knew when, after spending the weekend doing God knows what and then landing at a park in the middle of the night with no ride home in the snow. Annie uncrossed her arms and walked to her on the floor.

"Oh, Britta!" She sat on the ground next to Britta and put her arm around her back and held her shoulders. "Britta, I was just kidding. I wouldn't walk away. Stop crying, ok?"

Britta sobbed a few more times and said "Hey".

"Yeah?"

"It's cold as a witches tit here. Can we go inside?"

Annie got up and extended her hand to Britta, who took it and stood up as well. Together, they walked in. Annie ran back out to lock her car.


	5. Chapter 5

Britta walked out of her bedroom and into the dim living room, where Annie had fallen asleep slouching on the couch. Britta's hair was still slightly wet from the snow but she'd put on pajamas and was thankful for being warm and comfortable inside her home - which is why she felt so bad when entering the living room and seeing Annie in jeans and a pajama top asleep on her couch. She remembered the part of leaving her parents' home that felt the best: not being responsible for anyone else's troubles.

She walked slowly to the couch, trying not to make the floorboards creak, softly sitting on the armchair in front of Annie, decided to spend the rest of that night in the living room to make Annie company, but Annie lifted her head, half opened her eyes and said "Hey" sweetly.

"Hi," Britta answered, "Do you want to move to the bedroom?"

"No... I'm ok," she said sitting up.

"I didn't know you owned a pair of jeans." Britta pointed to Annie

"Oh, they're for emergency only."

"Listen, I'm sorry about tonight, I, I really don't like being trouble for anyone, and..."

"Britta, stop. What are you talking about?" Annie started with her sweetest, most caring voice, "I really appreciate you trusting me and letting me know when you need help."

Britta smiled to herself and looked down. She stood up and moved to the couch next to Annie. She didn't do these girly things often and it took her an awkward minute to get comfortable.

"I met a guy at this bar yesterday."

* * *

They sat together and had a couple of beers, took a couple of shots. Both were having a good time, and were drinking alone, so Britta suggested going together to another bar not too far from there. They walked outside to his minivan. Britta knew before she got in there would be a child's car seat inside. It didn't bother her, she wasn't up to anything but having a fun evening. His name was Randy, they got drunk together at the next bar, which was further away than she anticipated. Some time into the night he opened up and mentioned he'd been married for about ten years, had two kids and was starting to think of divorce. Things were not as easy anymore, love had faded away little by little, he was ready for something new. He meant to work things out as peacefully as possible with his wife and share custody of the kids, move to a small place close to their house, help out as much as possible. Maybe he still loved her, he said, and she loved him. Maybe they just needed some time to realize they needed each other again.

He didn't make a move on Britta, but she'd decided if he did, she wouldn't respond. Something about this absolutely normal guy trying to figure out this absolutely normal part of life made her put her hand on his arm and be supportive and positive for the first time in weeks. She encouraged him, smiled at him, felt she'd made a good friend, felt she'd done something great for someone for the first time in a while. She'd missed that feeling, the feeling of being helpful, noble and altruistic.

She sat at the bar drinking for a while more. Made good friends with the bartender, kept drinking. One reason Britta loved and hated, but mostly loved bartenders. They're your good friends as long as you stay and drink more. Britta chatted with her bartender until the Friday night crowd started to walk in and, as she had guessed, they were mostly regulars who knew each other from working around that place and meeting there after work. She felt like a stranger, very alone, drunk-sad, asked for her tab and left.

Walking in the dark outside Britta realized she was drunker than she wanted to get - a familiar feeling - and her only choice was to keep walking for a while until the dizziness passed. In a minute she was caught in her thoughts about what had been happening to her the past couple of weeks and saw herself suddenly in front of Wolfe Park. She only walked in to avoid the Friday night people on the sidewalks. She felt so alone, now she needed to be alone.

* * *

"Oh, Britta." Annie said like she was watching a movie. Britta looked up and smiled because _now_ the story sounded a little funny. Annie moved closer to her gave her a light hug that Britta responded more out of being motherly than out of being fragile, "You must be one of the most selfless people I've ever met. Even when you're wasted! That's so admirable."

"I know, it was pretty admirable" said Britta allowing herself to have the credit and feeling more decent that she had for a long time. Annie pulled away from her and looked her in the eye.

"Well, how about the rest of the weekend? Where have you been this whole time?"

Britta sighed and looked at Annie with a bothered smile.

* * *

On Friday Britta walked out of school and into the campus, feeling mostly relieved that week was over, needing a minute of silence to herself. On her way to her car, she ran into two guys who flirted with her, she flirted back in defiance and they invited her to a late-Thanksgiving house party two blocks from school. She laughed and refused to go, but ended up going anyway to have a distraction and because she thought it would be funny. She ended up spending the rest of the night there, enjoying the parts of being young and stupid that she'd missed, drinking with strangers, meeting new people, taking tequila shots, chugging full beer glasses, flirting, laughing, playing beer pong. She met a guy that was about her age, they made out, she spent the night. In the morning she took a good look at his face, decided it wasn't worth it, left before he woke up.

Later on that Saturday she walked to campus to get some fresh air, drank some coffee, smoked a cigarette, it was getting chilly outside and not many people were out. She met a guy walking his lab, walked with him for a while.

* * *

"Oh, God, Britta!" Annie put her hands on her face, "Did you sleep with him too?"

"No, it was just an anecdote about my Saturday."

Annie sighed. Britta went on.

* * *

Britta drove home. She started working on a little bit of homework and drank a few shots to try to write a report. She thought it would help her think clearer but it slowed down her thoughts. So she drank some more and thought it _would_ be a better idea to drink at home instead of going out, because she was responsible enough to see that she was being stupid. She drank the rest of her local whiskey, walked out to look for a liquor store and go back home. All she could afford was Jim Beam. She turned off her phone, turned on the TV, took off her clothes and took shots of cheap whiskey chased by cranberry juice the whole evening until she just passed out on her bed. She woke up throwing up at about 11, felt sick for hours, went back to sleep.

* * *

"And then there's tonight, which you already know about." Annie rested her head on her hands and sat against the couch still watching Britta. "Annie, you're looking at me like I'm a kitten with three legs or something."

"Why didn't you text one of us? We were all worried." Annie said and Britta gave her a sarcastic and skeptical look, "Well, I was."

"I'm sorry, I needed some space."

"Why did you need space?"

Britta took a deep breath. She didn't mind talking about messing up her own life as long as she could use it as a lesson, but talking about her family was a little more private. Like she knew that in _some_ situations, it's not ok to try to explore and make a lesson out of someone else. Nevertheless, she spoke.

"A few weeks ago my brother tried to kill himself in his garage."

Annie gasped surprised and took Britta's hand, "Oh, Britta, I'm so sorry!"

"It's ok. He'll be alright, the moron didn't know how to do it." She forced a smile and it faded away in a matter of seconds.

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"No, he won't talk to me. We were always very estranged. Growing up we competed for attention all the time, he seems to think I ruined his life." She said matter of factly and rolling her eyes while Annie frowned. Britta smiled and seeing Annie's face, she realized now she needed to comfort her friend. "It's ok. He is ok. My family is taking care of him, he'll get some help. They're _really_ good at minding each other's business. And I'm ok. It was just the initial shock. When I heard, I freaked out."

Britta hadn't noticed it, but she'd opened a door to a lot more she needed to get out of her system. She stopped looking at Annie and seemed to be looking somewhere inside her own words.

"I know it's stupid, it sounds so stupid right now, but for a while that afternoon I was so sure I had _really_ ruined his life." She said, the expression on her face not indifferent anymore but sad and desperate, "I felt so awful for a little while, so lost, I had no idea what I was doing!"

"What do you mean?"

"I did something so stupid, Annie!" Britta brought her hands to her hair.


	6. Chapter 6

"I know it's stupid, it sounds so stupid right now, but for a while that afternoon I was so sure I had _really_ ruined his life." She said, the expression on her face not indifferent anymore but sad and desperate, "I felt so awful for a little while, so lost, I had no idea what I was doing!"

"What do you mean?"

"I did something so stupid, Annie!" Britta brought her hands to her hair, "Everything is my fault."

"Britta!" Annie put a hand on her friends shoulder while Britta covered her face, "All siblings fight! It's a natural..."

"Annie, that is _not_ what I'm talking about!" Britta snapped, slapping her legs with her hands and making Annie pull away defensively.

"What are you talking about then?"

"That afternoon, I, I brought a guy to my house," Britta tried to explain, waving her hands, separating the words, trying to slow her thoughts down. She realized no matter how much she slowed them down, it wouldn't change what happened. She looked at Annie with a confused, surprised expression in her face, as if she herself were trying to understand what she had done, "And he attacked me."

Annie's eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to speak, but only gasp came out. She glared at Britta trying hard to find different meanings to what she had just heard, but coming back to the same thought as before.

"What?"

Britta opened her mouth to try to speak again, but only a tense sigh came out. Annie looked around herself, confused.

"That is a _crime_ we're talking about!"

"No, please Annie, just, just listen to what I have to say," Britta pleaded, calming down her voice, turning to Annie to speak and trying to slow down her words, but still obviously nervous. She saw it clearly now, every step of the story, every minute, and even though it had been confusing to think about it, saying it out loud seemed to make it clear, "That afternoon I was feeling so awful. So small. So pathetic. I left, and I had no idea where to go, but I had to leave. I needed air, I needed to walk away."

"Oh, Britta."

* * *

Like in a trance, after hanging up the phone with her family, Britta had sat on her bed and stared at the wall for a while. She stood up and and slowly walked out of her house. Breathing fast and staring at nothing, she walked down the stairs, out of the building, into the street. Outside people were moving about but she heard nothing. She broke down and cried walking down the street, still holding her keys - the only thing she had grabbed on her way out - and meandered in the dark for a few blocks, hearing only her heart thumping inside her head. She finally reached a point where her legs wouldn't hold her up anymore and she leaned against the wall, sitting down and curling herself up while she cried in the dark.

"Are you alright?" A man's voice said, his face covered by a shadow. Britta ignored him and covered her face with her hands, resting her head on her knees. The man knelt down by her and put his suitcase on the ground. He was wearing a dress up shirt and a tie. "Do you need help?"

Britta gave the biggest and most painful sigh she had felt in a long time, "I'm ok."

"Take a deep breath. Can I take you somewhere?"

Britta turned her head to look at him with the biggest, reddest eyes, her head feeling double it's size.

"I'm ok, I live down the block."

The man nodded. "Did anything happen to you?"

Britta sighed again and looked around herself. She closed her eyes, brought her hands to her hair, "I need a drink."

The man grinned, "Now that'll be easy to take care of."

They walked, mostly in silence, to the nearest dive bar. A set of stairs took them down to a hole in the wall called Sundown Saloon. They sat, the man ordered a beer and loosened his tie a bit. Britta ordered a shot of tequila and then another. She had no interest in him whatsoever, and he didn't ask her anything either. He talked about the day. About this part of town. About television shows. Little by little, Britta came back to life - to a certain extent. She still slouched on her seat but occasionally smiled at his comments. Soon she was in better shape and decided to end the bar tab and go back home. He offered to walk with her, so she wouldn't walk alone in the dark.

By the time the two reached her building, Britta was able to laugh out loud again. She still had the thought of her brother and the garage in her mind, and that filled her with a heartache she couldn't disguise, but she was willing to make an effort to get over this sooner rather than later.

"You wanna come in?"

The man glared at her and chuckled, "I'm not sure, don't you think this is too fast?"

Britta chuckled as well, more shyly than him, "I don't meant it like that. I mean to talk and have a drink."

The man looked up, pretending to think about it for a while while Britta waited at the door. He looked around himself on the sidewalk, looked at his watch, "I guess it's not that late yet."

So Britta grinned again and walked down the hallway and to the stairs, with the stranger following her into her house, "Don't you try to make a move on me" she joked, pointing a finger at him in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7 - read warning

WARNING: This chapter is incredibly explicit.

I deeply apologize for hurting a great character so badly. What I am writing here is a very loyal description of something that happened to me a few summers ago and once I started writing I could not bring myself to stop or omit anything. I don't write well, so this is plain nasty and I'm sorry.

* * *

Britta unlocked the door, turned on the lights and tossed the keys on the counter. She awkwardly apologized for the mess and told him there were beers inside the fridge. He complimented her small apartment while she went inside her room and she laughed at him. She came back out and they sat at the kitchen table. They toasted their beers and kept talking about Colorado, and the weather, and how it had been getting dark so early nowadays.

Truth was, had it been anyone else bringing a stranger into their house like this, she would've been livid and pulled out all sorts of statistics and facts to show them how completely irresponsible they were being. But Britta had been talking to this guy for hours and he had been the single good thing that had happened in her day. Starting with his decision to stop on the sidewalk and check on her to make sure she was alright, his patience with her sullen and disagreeable persona the first hour they talked, this guy was so incredibly considerate. Without him this evening she'd have sunken in bitterness and hostility, like she knew she had a tendency to do. She had no interest in him whatsoever, but she had had such a light evening with him so far, her mood had transformed completely without her having to think too much about her brother or her childhood.

They moved to the couch to watch a show. They stayed there for a couple of hours and with the time passing, the conversation faded. They talked less, she thought more. It was late, it was quiet, a melancholy started taking over her, her childhood, her brother, this man on this couch. She sighed and rearranged her body.

Just then, as if he had in her mind that maybe this wasn't the greatest decision, the man also moved to turn to her and leaned over, bringing his lips to hers.

"What are you doing?" Britta shouted and pulled away, leaning back on the couch and holding his chest with her hand. He stared at her without changing his expression. His sweet, confused eyes looked at hers, "I think it's time you go." Britta said standing up.

He closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side with an expression that to Britta looked like neediness. She glared at him with a challenging look. He lowered his shoulders and looked at her. With a disappointed and sad look on his face he whined, "I want to stay."

Britta continued glaring at him, confused, "You need to go. I want to sleep." She said, and walked towards the door, opening the lock and standing by the open door waiting for him to leave.

"I want to sleep here with you."

"I want you to go, _now_." She shouted and pointed out the door.

He crossed his arms and waved his head like a persistent child, not moving an inch from were he stood in front of the couch. Britta stared at him, hardly believing he was being so petulant about leaving a house that wasn't his, inside a building that wasn't his.

"Leave. Or I'll call the police."

He sighed loudly looking at the ceiling, dragged his feet to the door and stood in front of her. Britta stared at him defiantly.

"Give me one kiss."

"I'm- calling- the police." She said slowly, both staring at each other, her with a stern look, him with pleading eyes.

"One kiss" He said and pushed his body onto hers, trapping her against the door, pushing it open all the way to the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" She shouted, her hands pushing him away with all the strength she could find, but not strong enough to move him away. His face rubbed against hers and she tried to look the other way, still shouting, "Stop!" Still trying to escape his body but being held against the open door so firmly she had no space to move towards, and his mouth found hers while he held her by her hair.

She was finally able to move her hand up and push his face away from hers. She was filled with so much anger she could've cried, but she wouldn't. With her body still trapped by his, but pushing his face away she shouted again, but this time the words inside her head became an angry and hurt moan as she slipped her body down and away from his. He let go of her and let her run while he closed and locked the front door.

Britta ran to her room, to her bed where she had left her phone. Like an idiot, she thought, she had left the phone in the bedroom while this man she didn't know sat on her couch and drank beers by her side. Frantic and infuriated at herself for being so stupid and at him for using her in the state he found her, she slammed the door behind herself as hard as she could and turned the lock, realizing as she did it, that the lock had never worked. She stepped away from the door and unlocked the phone, nervously trying to type in 9-1-1 with shaky hands.

She was failing her first attempt when he burst in the bedroom. She started shouting as he turned off the lights.

"Stay away from me you freak!" She screamed in the dark. Her tone was challenging, but she knew the tone she used wouldn't matter now. In the dark, her phone lit up her face as she tried to dial again, but with the faint light from the phone she saw him walk towards her and she took that as her cue to run to the door, already planning the path to the front door in the dark: out the bedroom, through the living room, couch on the left, careful with the counter, front door would be on the left.

She held her phone tight and jumped over her bed, running to the door and reaching the handle at the same time as he reached her wrist and pulled her back, taking the phone from her hand and throwing her on the ground. Her head hit the wooden closet door with so much strength she felt herself leave her body and then come back. She rolled over and tried to get up, hearing him slam the bedroom door back shut, and she still thought she had a shot at making it to the front door in the dark.

Instead of standing up by herself, though, she felt his hands lift her by her sweater, and having her hands free, she tried to punch him. Britta had never been too strong, but if she could see how she fought him, she'd be incredibly surprised. She punched and slapped relentlessly without being able to see what she was doing, and she might have hurt him a little, but she would never know. He dropped her on the bed, on her back and slapped her so hard her entire body felt cold and lost. It took her a second, but when she recovered her breath from the slap, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Instead of screaming for help, though, in her rage, she cursed at him as hard and loud as she could, knowing that if she did scream loud enough, her neighbors would hear her and might try her door and maybe call the police. Maybe even break the door open and beat him up. It's what she would've done for anyone.

He slapped her again, though, and this time she gasped long and painfully, and her limp hands tried to hurt him again. He easily held her wrists over her head and put his entire body's weigh on her wrists as he opened up her pants with his other hand. Maybe she could've tried to scramble out of the bed while he finished pulling off her pants, but she didn't. And when he pulled off her underwear, reality hit her that she was about to be raped, and that took her breath away and her eyes filled with tears as she simply gave up.

Her pants and underwear were the only clothing he needed off. He pushed himself onto her until he finally went inside with a moan of victory or pleasure. She gave up and cried, like a child, and looked away pleading, begging for him to stop, knowing he wouldn't. Each time he pushed in, she cried more, she cried so much he covered her face with his hand, but that didn't stop the crying, the begging, and the crying and screaming didn't stop the rape and the pain either. She felt herself rip on the inside and on the outside. She was sure she had been ripped open forever and he continued doing it. Her cries went from frantic and desperate to low and painful, she never stopped asking him "Please, stop". When he finished he sped up and moaned loud and out of fear and pain she screamed louder and cried to the point she didn't feel her body anymore.

When he was done he rested on his elbows, still laying on top of her to recover his breath. The he pulled out slowly and stood up by the bed, sniffing, scratching his head. He pulled up his pants, zipped them up and felt on the ground for her clothes. Once he found them, he threw them on her, turned around and, without a word, left the bedroom. Outside the room he cursed and walked away, slamming the front door behind him.

Britta laid on her side bathed on his sweat, sobbing, her legs and her crotch throbbing and her head thumping as if that's where her heart was. Her head felt hot, but her body felt cold and wet. She reached for her underwear and her pants and threw them to the side of the bed, crying again. Panic struck her that he would walk back in and she dragged her body out of the bed and to the ground where she sat until she could stand up and walked to the bedroom door. She tried hard to stop crying and sobbed by the door trying to listen for him in the other room, but she only heard her heart and her uncontrolled breathing. Slowly she opened the door and walked into the living room. She started walking slowly to the front door, but in panic she started to run. She locked the door and leaned against it, slipping to the ground and crying loudly again.


	8. Chapter 8 - Finale

Note:

If anything happened to you or a loved one, please remember **your people are there for you**. Look for help and support. This is a work of fiction, Britta does not look for help with the purpose of adding drama to the story. Keeping secret about something like this isn't a wise decision.

I am available to talk if nobody else is available for you.

[This story is continued in _Defense Strategies_]


End file.
